


The End of an Era

by NewtonsApple



Category: Vampire Diaries RPF
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Gen, M/M, Part 1, Zach Roerig - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:13:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7372327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewtonsApple/pseuds/NewtonsApple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt Davis is pining for Nina Dobrev - He and Ian fly to Venice, Italy for a much deserved break. Friends to lovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It actually terrified me writing this story. I've never written an RPF before and I feel a bit guilty even writing about some of the things they get up to in this fic. Comments are appreciated and welcome, as all good feedback is. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Written for entertainment only, no disrespect to the actual people. Just the madness of my imagination that wants two hot guys to get naked together.

 

 

The idea of spending three weeks languishing by the pool in Italy sounds wonderful to Matt. Celebrating - or recovering - from six years of The Vampire Diaries has taken its toll. 

"What do you think?" Ian asks him, dumping his bag on the living room floor. "Amazing right? Huge kitchen, huge bathroom, four bedrooms and a pool. Not bad huh?"

Matt tries to show excitement but he's so tired his brain's like a static TV screen. "I'm beat. If we go to sleep now we'll be up all night. Entertain me."

"TV? The owner has an epic DVD collection if we can find it. Oh, there's a movie screening room too. Steps are steep, don't break your neck..."

Matt rolls his eyes. "Gee, thanks buddy. That almost sounded like you wanted me to." He flops on the leather sofa and kicks Ian's thigh hard. "Got any beer?"

He's one Peroni in when his eyes slam shut and he slumps over on his side. The bedroom is as far as Iceland right now. He's so tired...

                                                    ***********************

Ian groans. His back is killing him after sleeping squashed up against his suitcase all night. He stumbles into the ritzy black tiled bathroom and lifts the toilet seat. The hiss of water hitting the bowl makes him grin, it's like Niagara Falls. 

Wet and steamy after his shower, he tiptoes back in the living room to Matt. His friend is dribbling into the leather; button-up shirt rucked up to his hairy nipples. Ian can appreciate a hot body - male or female - why not? He isn't homophobic but given the choice, soft lady curves give him a boner in three seconds. 

He kicks out at Matt's leg and when his friend doesn't move, takes a photo with his phone. As awesome as Matt is, he's a little stuffy and needs to laugh more. The night before they'd left for Italy, he and the rest of the cast had gone out for a drink. Matt hadn't taken his eyes off Nina all evening. The guy needed to get laid and who better to help him but himself? Ian was the Casanova of the heart, Matt  _needed_ him. When it came to dating, the guy had worse luck than Alaric...

Bored with trying to get a rise out of him, Ian goes on a movie hunt. The four huge bedrooms all have TVs and DVD players, but no movies... Where did they hide the damn things, the attic?

Ian hears a panicked shout and sprints back to the living room. Tangled in the blanket, Matt has faceplanted on the carpet. Ian chokes back a chuckle and bends to help his friend up. "Jesus, can't leave you alone for a second can I? You okay buddy?"

Matt grumbles a torrent of swear words and ignores Ian's hand. He hitches up his boxers and trips again, smacking his head on the glass table. His mumbled, 'Ow' made Ian's heart flutter. How does Matt manage to make even pain sound sexy? He'd joked online to his Twitter followers that Damon made out with Alaric. But it's just a joke, isn't it?

"You okay buddy?" he says now. There's blood on the pale blue carpet. The owners will kill him if they wreck the place. It isn't just Matt's head that's bleeding; there's a gash on his knee too. 

"What happened?" Matt rubs his forehead and grimaces.

"You're a walking disaster? I was only gone for two minutes."

Matt rolls over onto his back. "I'm bleeding aren't I? Tickles."

"I'll get the first aid kit. Don't move."

He finds it in the kitchen behind the microwave, 'cos why not right? Matt limps after him and perches on the breakfast bar stool. Rolling his eyes, he attacks Matt's knee first. Standing in front of him he yanks his friend's leg up to see the damage. He gets a five second show of Matt's hairy balls swinging inside his boxers and gulps. The guy's like a wolf, hairy everywhere. Even Sara Canning has joked he's like a Sasquatch. Ian waxes. It's cleaner, sexier and a hundred times more sensitive. 

"What are you thinking about?" Matt asks. "You've got a weird look on your face."

"Just you," Ian quips. "Smile for Pete's sake, you'll get wrinkles. You're only fifty."

"Bastard. There's six months between us."

He cleans up Matt's knee and sticks a Band-Aid over it. He spins him around on the bar stool and settles himself between his friend's legs. Best angle to treat his head wound... Once he cleans off the blood, it isn't too bad. A graze, not a gash like he thought. "Stay still." 

"Ow! Do you know what you're doing?"

"Course. I was a boy scout."

"Bullshit."

"I  _was_. Back in the day,  _way_  back in the day." Ian sprays Neosporin on the cut and blows to take the sting away. Matt's eyebrows flutter in the breeze of his breath. "Ever thought about plucking those things?"

"What things?"

"Your eyebrows," Ian says, waggling his. "Wolf eyebrows."

"They're sparse man, maybe you need to get your eyes checked." He shifts on the stool, blushing at Ian's direct gaze. 

Peering intently, Ian smooths another Band-Aid on his friend's furrowed forehead. "No more frowning. It'll lose its stick." He yanks Matt outside onto the deck. "Beautiful right? Smell that salt, the ocean's less than a mile down the street."

"Um, Ian? Why're you holding my hand?"

Ian drops it like a hot potato. "I wasn't. I was making sure you didn't plummet to your death off the balcony. Messy."

Matt squeaks and covers himself with his hand. "Bathroom. Be right back."

The vision of Matt's morning boner smacks his brain like a pinball machine. Why is he thinking about Matt's dick? He's seen him half naked before on set and never questioned it. What's going on with him? Maybe they both need to get laid... 

He goes back inside and starts up the mothership-like espresso machine. Bitter acrid coffee wafts up his nose at the same time as Matt emerges from the bathroom. 

"Your fly's undone."

Matt's cheeks flush. "Uh. Why're you looking at my fly?"

"Why not?" Ian waggles his eyebrows and hands his friend a Barbie-sized coffee cup. "This shit's like rocket fuel. Gotta keep your strength up buddy."

"Please stop channelling Damon. I can't take it this early in the morning."

"It's eleven-thirty."

Two coffees apiece later Ian is ready to take on the world. Dressed in a lightweight t-shirt and board shorts, he suggests they hit the beach. 

"Think I'll go for a run."

"What about your knee?"

Matt rolls his eyes and flicks Ian's ear. "Now that you patched up my boo-boos, I'm okay. Give me an hour, unless you want me to meet you later?"

"Got my phone. Text me when you're done and I'll come up and meet you. Head for those trees over there. The beach path is right between those two tall ones."

"Awesome."

"Just do me one favour..."

"What?" Matt raises a suspicious eyebrow. "What diabolical plans are you plotting right now?"

"So suspicious Matty..."

" _Don't_  call me Matty."

"But it's cute. You're cute." Ian belly-laughs at his friend's dumbstruck expression. "Cute little Matty..."

"Bite me dude. I'm twice your size."

"Just make sure you shower. I'm taking you to Osteria Boccadoro for lunch. I'm not missing out on my Spider Crab because you stink."

"I thought we were meeting at the beach? I didn't come to Venice to get fat."

"Matty, Matty, Matty. We'll swim after, burn it all off." He pinches his friend's flat stomach and laughs. "Can't feel any fat here."

"Asshole." Matt gives him the fingers and half jogs, half limps down the sweeping gravel driveway. 

Ian has another cold shower. Two seconds after he's dry, sweat forms in his armpits. It's way too hot here for him. Not understanding a word, he watches two Italian sitcoms before he hears pounding footsteps. Matt's back and not before time, Ian's starving.

His driver Tony takes them to the restaurant where they sit outside shaded by a giant umbrella. Matt's getting his fair share of admiring glances from a table of doe-eyed beauties. 

One of them dances over and thrusts a menu under their noses. "Autografo?" She giggles and perches herself on Ian's knee. He gets a boner in three seconds and her phone number in four. Matt rolls his eyes and buries his face in the menu. 

"What?" he says when she leaves. "We're on vacation. Her friend's giving you the eye right now. Take your pick buddy. Perks of being famous."

Matt chews his lip and drops his gaze. "Nah."

"Still want Nina huh?"

"How'd you guess?"

"Because I know you and you're about as subtle as a jackhammer."

After lunch they take a slow walk through the town. Ian spots Nina's doppelganger, Analia. He'd met her when he'd come over a few years ago. He makes a mental note to introduce her to Matt. Why not have a party? Drunk, happy Matt is better than depressed, morose Matt. 

Matt groans and rubs his stomach. "Now I need a nap."

There might've only been six months between them but his friend acts like a Grandpa. Matt hides a lot of feelings behind those shuttered blue eyes. 

"Change of plans."

"I thought we were going to the beach?"

"Nope. We're planning a party. We need alcohol and food. Get moving Grandpa."

"Who else is coming?"

Ian smiles Damon's smirk. "Secret. Move your ass."

They spend a fortune on booze and a new outfit for Ian. Matt just rubs his eyes a lot and sighs. What his friend needed was a hot blonde gyrating on his dick, he'd soon perk up. Jesus, now he's picturing Matt naked. He smacks himself in the head. If memory serves, Analia's sister was pretty hot. 

                                   ***********************

Matt stares at himself in the mirror and smiles. It looks more like a grimace. He strips off his sweaty shirt and shorts and leans back onto the icy tile wall. He turns the shower to scalding and gulps in the steam. Who was Ian's mystery party guest? Is it Nina? He strokes his cock and groans picturing her dark hair cascading over his wrist. What was it about her? 

Never the bravest of men, he'd skirted around the issue of asking her out. She'd taken pity on him - and that's what it was, pity. She'd told him she wanted to date someone younger... 

There were ten years between them, he knew that, accepted it. But she'd dated Ian in the past and they were the same age. _That's_ what he couldn't understand. He wasn't an old fart, he still had fun. 

He dries off and dresses in a crisp grey shirt and well-worn jeans and slaps on Joop aftershave. This is his go-to outfit, his confidence booster. He pictures Nina's graceful lithe body and has to jerk off again before exiting the bathroom. 

"Forget something?" Ian says, chuckling.

Matt looks down at his pants. "No?"

"You look like a bushman. Spike your hair, it looks good on you. Trust me buddy, you want to look your best tonight." Ian pushes his friend back in the bathroom. 

Matt uses gel and wax and emerges again to a quiet house. It almost feels supernatural. Is he haunted by the memory of what couldn't be? He sculls back three beers in quick succession and sits outside on the deck. It'd be just their luck, have a party and no one turns up...

"Matt!"

He spins at the squeal and grins. "Candice! And Kat, what're you guys doing here?"

Kat brushes her springy dark hair out of her eyes. "Surprise!" 

If Kat and Candice were here, did that mean--?

"Is Nina with you?" he asks, digging his nails into his palms. 

"Yeah," says Candice. "She is but she bought a friend..."

He can see that. Nina looks gorgeous, ebony hair all shiny and curly, just like Katherine. She's got a twelve year old douche bag by the hand. He wrinkles his nose, he hates him already. Still, he does the mature thing. Goes over and introduces himself, pretends he doesn't care. He isn't fooling anyone but why hide from this prick?

Ian hands him his fourth beer and pats his back. "Sorry buddy. I didn't know she was bringing anyone. You okay?"

Matt shrugs off his friend's concerns and proceeds to get thoroughly drunk. Ian introduces him to Analia but it hurts to look at her. She pales in comparison to the real girl, dancing inches away from him. He can't take it. 

Three hours later, he's had enough of Nina and her toddler date's PDAs. It feels like she's yanked his heart out with a bowling ball, it _hurts_. 

 

He shuts himself in one of the bedrooms with his laptop and locks the door. To cheer himself up he decides to read some fan fiction. Hardly anyone knows that he once wrote one. He ships Alaric and Elena, of course... Who else would he pick? He lets his imagination run wild but that's nothing compared to what he jerks off to at night.

His fans prefer to ship him with everyone other than Elena. They think it's creepy, given his teacher slash guardian role in her life. There are hundreds of stories and the ship names make him laugh. Kalaric, Alaric and Kat; him and Stefan for some unfathomable reason... Does he come across as gay? He likes the Dalaric ship, him and Damon, their friendship is legendary. Fans call it a bromance; he had to look that up in Urban Dictionary. 

Some stories are sweet and some are deep. Others are just plain weird. What the hell is mpreg? Urban Dictionary explains it as male pregnancy... Where would the baby even come out? Jesus Christ. He doesn't want to know. 

Why do his fans see him as the bottom? Because he's all tortured and lovelorn? His love life echoes Alaric's more than he cares to admit. 

He dumps the laptop on the floor and heads outside for a beer. He's had too much already but he doesn't care. They call it dry horrors for a reason, his mouth feels like he's eaten a silica packet. He smiles at Kat and Candice curled up on the sofa, asleep but still clutching their wine. Chicks are so cute. 

A shout by the front door makes him spin. Ian is trying to remove Nina from the clutches of her drunken boyfriend. A leather-jacketed arm swings something shiny at Ian's head. A beer bottle. 

He shoves his friend aside and plows Nina's boyfriend into the summerhouse wall. Ian staggers back, blood leaking from between his fingers. Matt punches the kid hard in the face and Tony and Ian's bodyguard fly to his side.

"Let him go Matt, please!" Nina's high-pitched screech rolls right over him. "He didn't mean it, it was an accident!"

"An accident? He accidentally shoves a beer bottle into your friend's head? Are you out of your goddamn mind?" 

Matt pushes her back and thumps the kid again. He drops like a gunshot gazelle and groans like a baby. A short blast of sick satisfaction hits him like a ten-tonne truck. It feels good. 


	2. Chapter 2

Candice checks her phone for the billionth time and sighs. "He'll be fine. The doctor promised to text when we can pick him up. Stop worrying."

"How can I?"

Her phone bleeps again and she smiles and uncurls his fist. "See? We can go in now."

"About damn time."

The hospital is cool and clean and clinical but he's still seeing red. That damn little punk. Ian's bodyguard had thrown him out on his ass but Matt wants to make the kid pay and pay and _pay_.

They turn the corner and Candice drops his hand, rushing to Ian's side. "Aw sweetie. Your poor head..." She gulps and her blue eyes swim with tears. She hugs him gingerly and nestles her head in his neck. 

"Look at you guys..." Ian says fondly. "I'm fine. Two dissolvable stitches and a bandage and I'm good as new. I can't work out who looks more upset, you or Matty."

"Don't call me Matty." 

Candice giggles. "Aw, bromance. If only your fans could see you now. We're parked in the red zone, can you walk?"

Ian chuckles. "I'm surprised Matt didn't park on the roof. You look mad buddy, I'm fine I promise. The cut isn't even that deep."

Matt turns his back and stares at a poster of a cartoon syringe and blinks, hard. 

"Don't worry buddy, let's go." Ian kisses the fat nurse's hand and says, "Grazie." 

Ian talks the whole way back to the chalet and Matt white-knuckles the steering wheel. How is Ian not angry with Nina's douche boyfriend? Matt's livid. Given the chance he'd smash open the kid's skull. 

"Thank god we're on hiatus; I don't think a facial scar would make Julie happy. Everyone get home okay?"

Matt nods in the mirror. "Yeah. Kat's back at the house." 

"Let's hit the beach."

"The beach? You just got out of the hospital, are you insane?"

"I'm fine Matt, stop stressing. Sun, sand and ocean, we need recovery. Hey, Analia asked for your number, want me to give it to her?"

"Was that the chick in the little black Gucci number?" Candice asks, giggling. "You totally should Matt."

"She looks like Nina."

"Duh," Ian says. "You should. Listen to me; I know what's best for you."

                                           *************************

 

Kat jumps up and attacks him. "You are not hitting the beach. You want sand in your cut? You're staying here. We'll bring you some pizza and chips, you just relax."

Ian can't resist Kat, he never could. She's like a whirlwind of kind concern bolstered by steel. "Fine. Take Matty with you. See if you can make him happy. Get him out of his doldrums."

After they leave, the quiet of the house starts to get to him. TV is too loud and he can't concentrate. The owners' obviously don't read much, there are no books anywhere.He picks up Matt's laptop from the table and goes online. Minimized to the desktop is an open page. 

He laughs so hardhis cut throbs. Fan fiction...  _Oh Matty_... He reads a few stories, pink links he's sure Matt has read. Dalaric seems to be the common theme, a few Elena ones but mostly him and Matt. Well, Damon and Alaric but why split hairs? 

He clicks on one about Damon missing Alaric after he died and chokes up. The scenes without his friend kinda sucked, Matt was fun to be around when he wasn't brooding. Damn Nina. His friend deserved better. 

Loud and raucous voices pierce his brain, they'reback. He shuts the laptop with a bang and places it back where it was. He lay back on the couch and pretends he's dozing. 

Matt and the girls have proper Italian pizza in their hands.None of the cardboard crap they get back home. The tantalizing scent of garlic wafts up his nose. 

"Ian? You awake?" Candice stage whispers from the door. She kneels next to him and drapes herself on his chest. "Dinner's ready!"

He hides a smirk as Matt's eyes dart to his laptop. Did he put it back in the right place? He hopes so. 

Matt drops down next to him and helps himself to a slice of pizza. He wiggles on the couch and grimaces before pacing. 

Kat plonks herself next to him and strokes his forehead.  "How's it feeling?"

Ian winces. "No touching. It hurts like a bitch."

 "Sorry," she says. "Bad news, Matt lost the bet, we're watching The Notebook."

"What? Haven't I suffered enough? What did you do Matt?"

Candice laughs. "He's suffering too. I told him to wear sunscreen but would he listen to me? No. Bad boy."

Wincing, Matt hunches his shoulders. "It's not even that bad. I had my shirt off for ten minutes, I'm fine."

Kat attacks him, peeling his shirt away from his back. "Look at this Ian, tell him off."

Matt's hairy back has splotches of red among the white patches. It doesn't look that bad to him, the girls are exaggerating. 

"Looks okay to me. I can't find any movies, let alone The Notebook."

"I have it on my phone and Matt has a USB cord don't you?"

"Damn," the boys say in unison. 

Ian pretends to cry as the closing credits roll. Hefeels Matt's eyes on him, smirking at him from across the room. Why was his friend reading dirty Dalaric stories? Matt's straight, right?

"Okay, my turn. Final Destination II," he says. "I'm the injured one."

Candice flicks through Netflix. "Let's watch Vampire Diaries."

"Why did I agree to this?" Kat says, hiding her face behind a cushion. "Is that what my hair looks like from the back? Let's watch something else."

Ian watches Matt's face every time Elena comes on screen. His friend has it bad. Four episodes in, Ian's eyes start to droop.

******************************************************

Matt checks out the others. Ian's asleep with his head on Kat's lap but Candice is still awake. He thinks about leaving him where he is and making excuses to go to bed but he feels bad. Ian needs a proper sleep in a proper bed. 

He stumbles over and taps him on the shoulder. Kat wakes and goes to bed and Candice follows. Matt hauls his friend up but he can't stand. The pain pills he took must've kicked in. He's limp and out of it. 

Grumbling, he drags his friend to his bedroom and dumps himon top of the bed. He still doesn't look comfortable. Should he undress him or leave him? His jacket's all scrunched up behind his back. 

Matt slides Ian's shoes off and pulls the blanket over him. Ian turns over on his side and grabs Matt's shirt, mumbling something he can't make out. 

Ian'sshirt has ridden up while Matt's been trying to get his jacket off. One hip is bare and for some strange reason he wants to graze it with his palm. He shakes his head hard before returning to the lounge. He watches a few more scenes with him and Nina and then a few with him and Ian. What do their fans' see in their dynamic that they don't?

Tired now, eyes starting to droop, he makes his way to bed. Taking his laptop into his room he plugs it in the charger and realises the page is different. Guilt and shame bubbles up in his gut. Ian's seen what he's been looking at... But it doesn't stop him from reading more. 

He finds one called _Come Undone_ and can't stop reading until he's done. His imagination is running riot, the story is a bit gross but he's flushed, sweaty and hard. He drops the laptop to the floor and unbuttons his pants. His cock is granite-hard and he bites his fist to keep from moaning out loud. The last thing he wants is for the girls or Ian to hear him. Balls tightening, he sprays cum over his chest and some even hits his lip. It tastes gross, salty and bitter. He cleans himself up and tries to sleep. 

                                                     ***********************

At nine-thirty, Ian takes Matt a cup of espresso and smirks. Crumpled tissues litter the bedside table and the laptop is on its side on the floor. Matt's laying half on, half off the bed, boxers showing pale hairy skin. Matt is a good looking guy, all broad shoulders and sinewy muscles. He grins, smacking his friend's ass to wake him up.

Matt bolts upright, almost falling off the bed. He peers blearily at Ian. "Is that Damon's evil smirk or am I having a nightmare?"

"Nightmare of course. Time to get up, it's almost ten."

"Why? Nothing to get up for," Matt says, hiding his face in the pillow. "How's your head?"

"How's your back?" Before he knows what he's doing, Ian's hand slides up his friend's shirt and skims his spine. Saliva floods his mouth and his eyes blur with black spots. What just happened? It reminds him of the time he dreamed he was butt-naked in gym class. 

Matt freezes on the bed. "F-Fine."

"You should wax that shit." Ian slaps his back lightly. "Girls love smooth skin."

"Yeah..."

Ian rubs his head and winces. "I'm gonna take some pills. Get up when you want."

"Where are the girls?" Matt asks softly. 

"Gone. They have a friend's bachelorette party tomorrow in Rome. You're stuck with me."

"I thought they were staying a few days. Kat said--"

"Guess they changed their minds. You don't wanna hang with me?"

"Quit it with Damon's puppy dog eyes. Fine, I'm getting up."

Ian leaves him to get dressed and collects the paper from the mailbox. His own name leaps from the black type. Julie is gonna be so pissed. Damn Nina, damn her stupid drunk boyfriend, damn it all to hell. His head throbs with tension; this is the last thing he needs. 

Matt pads into the kitchen, barefoot and shirtless like some kind of kinky dream. "You okay?"

"Nice hair," he says, mussing his dirty blond spikes. 

"Shut up. What's with the paper? And your face?"

"It's just my face." Ian fakes a grin and turns his back. Matt will go apeshit if he reads the article. 

"Give it here." Matt tugs Ian away from the coffee machine by his shirt. "And get the stuff from the hospital. You get Doctor Davis today."

Ian smothers a groan. Why does Doctor Davis sound so fucking sexy? He clears his throat and palms hiscock. "Fine. I'll read it to you but you're not gonna like it."

Matt nods before forcing Ian on the bar stool. He lays bandages, gauze pads, sterile tape and antiseptic cream on the counter. He peels the old tape off Ian's forehead as gentle as a feather.

Ian can tell by Matt's puckered face that it looks like shit. "The article talks about a party brawl, my name was on line one. It also says I planned it, dumb right? Why would I plan for some juvenile delinquent to bash my head in with a beer bottle?"

Matt's nose wrinkles in disgust. He dabs the icy cold cream on Ian's forehead and blows, just like Ian did to him. He doesn't read anything into it; it's like your Mom doing it. But Matt wasn't his mom, he was his best friend. 

"What else? I know there's more."

Ian laughed. "Of course there's more. Apparently I wanted Nina back and attacked her boyfriend when she said no."

"Damn reporters." Matt's harsh breath puffed into his face. "Truth and fiction is the same thing to those bastards. Hold still."

Ian snorts. "I'll say. If memory serves, you beat him up not me. The boyfriend whose bright idea it was to get behind the wheel blind drunk. Nina's not dumb, why couldn't she see I was protecting her?"

"Lucky I came out when I did. I saw the bottle and lost it. I do feel kinda bad beating up a kindergartner but whatever. Okay, all done. Better?"

Ian pouts, just like Damon does. "Look at you defending my honour. Nina's the bad guy here too, she defended him. Some friend right?"

Matt narrows his eyes at the paper. "You missed some. She told the reporter I went after her boyfriend because she turned me down."

"What?" Ian grits his teeth. He's gonna kill her. He grabs his phone from the table and slams the balcony door. The reporter contradicted herself twice in one paragraph, did no one proofread anymore?

Nina answers on the first ring sounding exhausted. "What?"

"Is that all I get? How could you do this to me, to Matt? I protected you from your drunken boyfriend. I get a bottle to the head and you talk to a reporter about me? What kind of friend are you? And what about Matt? You know how he feels--"

Nina chuckles down the line. "Just because he can't handle rejection is no reason to go off at me Ian. Stop--"

Ian disconnects the call and stomps back inside. Damn her. He throws his cell on the floor and drops to the couch. He's wound tighter than a spring right now. 


	3. Chapter 3

"That bad huh?" Matt chucks a beer on his lap. "I heard some of it."

"It gets worse. The story's online too. Kat and Candice already text me."

"What did they say?"

"That they can't choose sides."

"Diplomatic and sucky. Did you take your meds?" He tries to take the beer back but Ian hugs it tight. "Beer and pills isn’t good buddy. Doctor Davis says no."

"Is that like Smoky the Bear?"

Matt nods and gives him a wry smile. "Why don't we watch a movie?"

"It'll have to be in here, I didn't find the movies yet."

"Did you check the screening room? Maybe there's a cupboard you missed." 

"Don't worry about it. Sit with me," he commands his friend. 

"I don't wanna squash you."

"You won't." Ian clears the squeak out of his voice and butts his head against Matt's thigh. 

                                     **********************

So engrossed in a naturist program about rhinos, Matt finds himself stroking Ian's cheek. His friend makes a contented sound in his sleep. The couch is comfortable, too comfortable. His eyes start to slip shut and he gives into sleep. His fingers stop moving and rest against Ian's shoulder, curling into his neck. 

He wakes a few hours later, it's past lunchtime and he's hungry. He tries to stretch out his limbs and dies of shame realising Ian's head is in his lap. A flush heats his neck and he looks down and freaks. He's hard. With Ian inches away from his dick... He pushes him off and runs into the bathroom to splash water on his face and takes care of business. 

When he comes back, Ian's sitting up frowning at the TV. "What time is it? I'm starving."

"Almost five. What do you want for dinner?"

"I guess I'm cooking since your idea of gourmet is toasted cheese sandwiches..." Ian says with a chuckle. He boils water on the stove and dumps in two cups of penne pasta. He mixes chunks of feta cheese and green olives and sun dried tomatoes. "Sit your ass down. What do you wanna do tomorrow? Go back to the beach?"

"Sounds good I guess. I'm pretty beat. Might have an early night." 

For some reason he can't meet Ian's eyes. He feels like he's gonna choke on firm pasta and cheesy olives. Having his friend give him the Heimlich manoeuvre would be the crowning moment to his day. 

They watch TV after dinner and Matt plants a cushion between them. This -whatever it is - has to stop. His nerves are a hot jumbled mess beneath his skin. He  _wants_ \-- He doesn't know what he wants. Does he? He can't want  _this_ , not with Ian... Oh god.

"What's wrong buddy?" Ian trails soft fingers over his hairy arm. 

Matt stiffens and his mouth goes dry. Does Ian know the effect he's having on him? It's almost like he's doing it on purpose. He can't know right? It's all in his imagination. He needs to go to bed and jerk off over _Nina_. He needs to--

Ian sighs and dumps the cushion on the floor before snuggling into Matt's lap. He picks up his friend's arm and drapes it over his side. Matt's arm has a mind of its own. It starts caressing his friend's chest, hard abs under the pads of his fingers. Ian's heartbeat thrums under his palm. 

Matt smothers a groan behind his fist and wriggles into the couch. He's so hard he might burst and now he's grazing  _skin_. Ian's hot, smooth, silky skin. Goosebumps erupt in his wake and he shivers. He can't take it. He eases Ian off his lap and tries to wake him but his friend is dead to the world. He slides a cushion underneath his head and leaves before he changes his mind. 

He shuts his bedroom door and leans his hot forehead against the cool wood. He has a huge boner and blushes even though he's alone. What if Ian saw? He'd die of embarrassment. He reads a few Dalaric stories and acts out the scenes in his head. He comes twice in ten minutes and passes out. 

The next morning, he wakes first and switches on the coffee maker. Ian's still sleeping on the sofa, soft snuffly snores the only sound in the deafening silence. His jeans hang low on his hips; Matt can see the 'V' and a sprinkling of dark pubic hair. Saliva floods his mouth. What's happening to him? Why can't he drag his eyes away from Ian's sculpted marble abs? He wants to reach out and touch them more than he needs to breathe. 

He takes his coffee outside on the deck and inhales the hot coconut-smelling air. He hears a bang. Ian's awake. Matt watches him through the window, stretching tall, muscles rippling. He sculls the coffee back and runs to the bathroom for a shower. He makes it hotter than he can stand, like a punishment of unwanted thoughts. He scrubs his skin raw and jerks off picturing Ian's nakedness. 

Why is he getting hard? Ian's always naked on set, why is it affecting him like this now? Because they're alone? Because his heartbreak from Nina has warped his fragile little mind? It's almost like a betrayal, the way he feels. Not that he's betraying Nina; he's betraying his and Ian's friendship. Raw and painful feelings tug on his tear ducts. Why does he feel like crying?

He slaps the side of his head to dislodge the awful thoughts and rinses off in the shower. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he heads for his room. Beach day. Maybe the sun and surf will harvest those impure thoughts. Maybe he'll meet a girl...

Dressed in a blue tank top and board shorts, he brushes his teeth at the bathroom sink. Even his reflection screams confusion. It's visible to anyone who cares to look and Ian's the only one here. 

"To save us coming back I've packed some fruit and water. You want anything else?" Ian's black hair curls over his collar. 

Matt has to swallow a few times before he can reply and just nods. Ian's nipples are poking through the thin cotton shirt he's wearing. Why is the universe punishing him? What did he  _do_?

They walk to the beach in silence. Matt concentrates on not imploding. They find a spot close to the water and Ian tells him he's going to swim before sunbathing. 

Matt strips his shirt off and dabs sunscreen on his chest. A hot blonde surfer catches his eye. She's wearing the tightest swimsuit known to man, he can see her _folds_. Her giant jugs pop in and out of her pink bikini like a baby Joey in its mother's pouch. 

"Hey cutie, need a hand?" She takes the sunscreen out of his greasy hand and spins him round before he can reply. 

Her fingers feel soft as they glide the thick, sticky cream over his hot skin. His balls are so tight right now that one touch would make him blast over the sand like a tidal wave. 

"I'm Stacy. You're from the States huh? I'm from Utah."

"Me too," he finds himself saying. 

"Okay, you're all done. What's your name?"

"Matt."

"Matt what?"

He chokes. He doesn't want to tell this girl who he is. He's not as famous as Ian but either she's playing him or she really doesn't know who he is. Has he found the only hot girl in Venice who has never watched The Vampire Diaries?

"Matt," he says again.

She quirks an eyebrow and giggles. "Oookay... My friends are waiting for me. Give me a holler if you need anything else." She winks at him and sashays off to a group of girls by the lifeguard hut. 

Ian's still not back yet and he can't see him. He falls asleep on his towel with his face in a book. His ears are burning in the sun but he's too lazy to open the sunscreen again. He tugs his t-shirt over his head and settles down once more. 

"Matt? Hey, Matt, wake up buddy." Ian's voice drifts into his dreams. 

His back is a little stiff but he's so drowsy he doesn't care. Ian drapes rough, wet material on his back and for a second it's nice. And then the pain hits. It brings back memories of his cousin daring him to touch the stove top. Searing, never-ending pain that make his nerves scream in horror. 

"You idiot!"

Ian sounds angrier than he's ever heard him sound and the rage of it hurts his eardrums. Why's Ian yelling at him?

"Didn't you learn your lesson yesterday? You're burnt to hell!"

"I did," he mumbled. "Stacy helped me."

"Who the hell's Stacy?"

"A girl..."

"No shit Sherlock. Get your ass up, I'll call Tony to come get us."

Breathing  _hurt_. It felt like someone was rubbing broken glass over his back. Stacy had spent ten minutes rubbing sunscreen on his back. Ten minutes of her soft-fingered torture and his boiling balls. Had she missed some?

Ian helps him to stand and drags him up the steep beach path to the car. Tony takes one look at him and suggests the hospital. "I've never seen burns that bad."

"No. I'm fine," he mumbles, lying through his teeth. He feels stupid enough; he doesn't want to go to the hospital. 

"We'll see how he goes." Ian wraps the sea-water stiff towel over Matt's shoulders. "Don't lean back buddy."

Ian's face is pale and dark circles ring his ice-blue eyes. Matt feels even worse for making him worry and stupid for trusting a girl he just met. Why would you  _pretend_  to put sunscreen on someone? 

When they get back to the chalet, Tony leaves them to it and makes Ian promise to call him. Ian turns the shower on full bore and sprays arctic water on Matt's inferno-like back. He wants to scream it hurts so bad. He's never felt anything like it. 

Afterwards, Ian tries to force-feed him pasta but he can't eat. Can't swallow. Can't  _think_. Pain is the only thing he can comprehend right now and suddenly he wants his Mom. He's thirty-eight years old and he wants his mother, how sad is that?

 "You're okay buddy, you're okay," Ian whispers into his ruined neck. "I'll tell Tony to pick up some supplies. My Mom uses Aloe Vera gel. If that doesn't help, you're going to the hospital if I have to drag you there myself."

Tony turns up with dinner and a massive jar of green goop. He grimaces at Matt's naked back and again insists on the hospital. 

"We'll see how it is tomorrow," he tells the driver with a confidence he doesn't feel. 

Tony leaves and Matt settles down on the couch with a bag of Doritos and Ian. One is more comforting than the other and it's not the chips. Is the universe punishing him for his impure thoughts about his friend? It feels like it. 

He tries to swipe the thick green gel at his back but it's useless. He needs help. Ian's help. There's nothing else for it. 

Ian makes him sit between his legs and pushes him forward. Matt bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. Even his friend's gentle touch makes him want to scream. 

"Ow, you've got blisters. You'll have to sleep on your belly."

The fire in his back is out, the sick guilt of being this close to Ian has returned. 

"I guess she missed a bit huh?" 

"She missed your whole back. The only part that isn't burnt is your shoulders. Jeez, your ears too."

"That was my fault. It was so nice and warm in the sun I was to lazy to move."

When Ian's done, Matt insists on changing the bandage on his friend's head. "It's all leaky. Is that pus? You might have an infection." 

Ian waves a dismissive hand. "I'll be fine. It's you I'm worried about. Let's have a beer."

Three beers take the edge off Matt's pain and four make him sleep. He wakes up in the middle of the night and rolls on his back. His scream wakes up Ian who rushes to his side. 

Switching on the bedside light, Ian smoothes the green crap over his back. "I'm staying in here with you, no arguments." He settles himself next to Matt and drapes the blanket over his legs. 

Matt's dying inside. Pain makes him look weak. He doesn't want to play victim to Ian's Florence Nightingale. He wants to forget he wants to see his friend naked. Ian's only wearing thin black boxers and he's only wearing blue. If they roll together in the night...

He wakes at three-thirty, stiff and raw and trying not to cry. His Mom was right; guys would never cope with childbirth. He has to wake Ian to put more gel on his back. 

"What are friends for?" Ian slaps three layers of goop on his sore back and dances over his muscles. "Wanna watch a movie?"

"It's the middle of the night..."

"So? I found where they hid them. Inside the closet."

 _The closet_ reverberates around Matt's muddled mind. Another universe sign? He's not gay; he's never fantasized about men before, just Ian. When did it start? Just two days ago? It feels like forever.

"Cool," he mumbles into his pillow. "What movies?"

"Spartacus, Legally Blonde--"

"Wonderful. I really want to see baby me."

Ian laughs and tugs Matt's spikes. "But you were so cute back then..."

"I used to have a crush on Selma Blair..."

"Who didn't?" Ian gets off the bed and puts the DVD in the player. "I think we deserve some ice cream."

The heat on Matt's back makes the rest of him shiver. Every single hair on his body is standing up like a soldier. The mint choc-chip ice cream is only making it worse. 

Ian's staring at him with his mouth open. Matt looks down. His nipples are rock hard. Oh. His nipples aren't the only hard thing. "Uh..."

Ian chuckles and manhandles him on his front facing the TV. "It's not that comfortable but it'll hurt worse if you sit up." He squeezes another glob of the gel on Matt's back and rubs in lazy circles. 

Shivery excitement lights him up like a candle. Ian's fingers are delicious torture gliding up and down his back. Pre-cum dribbles inside his shorts and he mashes his cock into the bed. His own breath is harsh in his ears and he wants to scream. 

"You okay buddy?" Ian whispers. He shimmies down next to Matt and leans his head on his fist. "Want a drink?"

Matt nods, he's coming undone, just like that story he read. He forces himself to think of Mrs Parks. She was a leather-faced old hag who lived next door to his mom. She's dead now of course but he pictures her anyway. Anything other than Ian naked and touching him. He can't take it. 

Elle Wood's screech makes his eyes fly open. God he looks so young. Now he's the wrong side of thirty and in lust with his best friend. 

He concentrates on cold swallows of peach iced tea and not Ian's fingers circling his hip. Those evil fingers travel to the waistband of his boxers and dip underneath. 

"Stop," he mumbles to the TV. 

Ian jumps as if Matt's caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. "Got distracted by baby-you."

Matt rolls over and bites his lip. "Ow."

"Well duh, I told you not to move." He spreads the last of the gel on his spine and straddles Matt's feet. "We're going to the hospital first thing."

Matt's heart skips a beat when Ian's fingers tickle that sensitive spot behind his knee. It travels higher, rubbing the crease of his thigh. Matt drools into the blanket and moans. 

Ian laughs and stops what he's doing, sliding down the bed to Matt's head. "Selma Blair turning you on?"

"Uh... Yeah."

"Liar..."

Matt mumbles his agreement and drifts off to sleep with Ian's fingers in his hair. Ian turns out the light and they both sleep late. 


	4. Chapter 4

 

The nurse at the clinic takes one look at Matt's back and drags him into a room. Muttering, 'Stupido', she layers wet gauze over his sore back. She presses a packet of pills into his hand and mumbles something he doesn't understand. She leaves him on the bed and he can hear her yelling at Ian. He doesn't know why. Ian's infection wasn't self-inflicted like his. 

Ian and the nurse walk into his room together and he's pleased to see Ian laughing. He's got some colour back in his cheeks, none of that awful grey-faced whiteness. The nurse hands Ian a spray bottle before pointing at Matt. 

"You spray him. Twice," she says, holding up three fingers. "Twice for him. Two days, we change dressing."

Tony picks them up and drops them back home with some junk food. Matt can sit up now since his back is numb from the dressings. They both take their pain killers and watch TV in Matt's room. 

Matt wakes up three years later with a Sahara-dry mouth and a pounding headache. He's hungry too, his stomach's rumbling like an earthquake. The nurse's 'Stupido' echoes in his brain. Lying on his side, he chows down on chip and dip and watches Ian sleep. The shivers start at the same time the pain comes back. He's only wearing boxers. He sips his water and slops some on Ian's leg. 

His friend startles in his sleep and rolls towards Matt. He drapes the blanket over them both and pulls him close. He wakes again at five with Ian's sour breath blasting his nose. Matt needs to pee in the worst way; his bladder is strangling his intestines. He tries not to wake Ian but he does. They dart apart, both denying without speech the fact they were cuddling. They can blame it on their pain meds, right?

Matt stumbles into the bathroom and takes care of business. Ian's up too now. He can't help but smirk at Ian's morning wood. He makes them both a coffee and takes them back to his room. He's starting to feel more human now but his back is starting to throb. 

"Can you spray my back?"

Ian nods and pats the bed. He saturates the gauze and Matt relaxes as the pain fades. 

"Your turn Doctor Davis." Ian hands him the first aid kit and lies back on the pillows. "We'll sit outside after. Under the umbrella. I'm not taking any chances with you and the sun."

The day is fine and sunny but not as stifling as it has been. They sit beside the pool, watching the sunshine glint off the water. 

"How long do you want to stay?"

"Here?" Matt frowns into his coffee. Does Ian want him to leave? "Why?"

"I didn't know if you had any plans for the summer. You can stay with me as long as you want."

Matt's stomach does Damon's happy dance. He wants to stay with Ian. Doesn't think he could leave if he wanted to. 

He nods. "Yeah. I'll stay. We'll have to make it better though, we haven't had the best luck so far."

Ian drags him inside at two, the sun is at its hottest and he's not taking chances. Matt's sunburn is bad enough as it is. He mists his friend's back again before sprawling on the couch. He's all movie'd out. He takes his pills, drifting in and out of consciousness. Watching Matt read his rhino book. 

Tony brings them some grilled burgers and stays for a beer. Matt reads a passage aloud and Tony's eyes glaze over. "I'll leave you guys to it. Call me if you need me."

Ian's face is slack, he's fallen asleep again. Matt shrugs and gets another beer. Heading into his own room, he reads more fan fiction. It's becoming an obsession and he starts to worry if he's going mad. 

He types Dalaric into the Google search bar and clicks the video tab. He needs more than just stories today. He needs to scrub Ian from his mind before he does something stupid. 

Youtube has tons of Dalaric videos. He plugs his headphones into the laptop and lies on his belly. The first video has manipulated clips from various episodes but the song is hilarious. The lyrics crack him up, 'If I loved you more I might be gay'... He's starting to wonder.

He closes that one and loads the next. Is it possible to die laughing? This one has similar clips but the soundtrack is from Beauty & the Beast. It features Elena as Mrs Potts and Stefan as Chip. He can't keep the grin off his face. He's panting to keep his giggles in. Alaric is Beauty and Damon is the Beast. 

He hears a noise at his bedroom door. He'd forgotten Ian was still sleeping. He shuts down the webpage and unplugs the headphones. 

"Matt? What the hell are you laughing at?" Ian calls through the door. "Are you watching porn in there?" He takes one look at Matt's red face and grabs the laptop. "What are you watching? Show me," he demands, smile playing around his lips. 

"You'll die." Matt loads up Beauty again and shoves the laptop in his friend's face. "You're the beast."

"Kinky," Ian says, waggling those infernal Damon-eyebrows. "What else did you find?"

"Tons."

They watch a few more but none are as funny as the two they've already watched. A few videos have 'Dalaric slash' labels. 

Ian snorts. "Remember when we didn't know what slash meant? I miss those uncomplicated days."

Numb from his spray, Matt lays back with one arm behind his head and the other on his chest. "Gotta love our fans though. They take it so seriously."

Ian grins. His antibiotics are finally kicking in. He's feeling no pain and Matt's smile makes his heart sing. His friend hasn't looked this happy in awhile. 

He and Tony take Matt back to the clinic to have his dressings changed. The nurse's 'two' days having actually meant tomorrow...

Matt's back is still in a state. He's trying not to bawl as the nurse strips off the dried gauze and half his back. Ian squeezes his fingers and makes faces at him to distract him. He's never seen Matt Davis cry real tears before and he hates it. 

The nurse layers new, wet gauze over his back and applies a strong smelling solution on top. Ian grasps his hand and tells him to squeeze it when it hurts. Once he's able to stand on his own two feet, the nurse tells him to rest on his stomach. She pronounces it, 'stom-mak' and Ian repeats it every five seconds. 

She gives Ian firm instructions to make Matt take his pills. Her accent turning the word strong into 'stronk'. She pats his cheek and hands them both over to Tony. 

Back at the chalet, Ian makes Matt take two of the painkillers - with food. They make omelettes for dinner and watch TV in Matt's room. Ian hasn't slept in his own bed for three nights but he doesn't care. Matt's important. He takes his own pills so he's drowsy but nowhere near as bad as Matt is. He sprays the stinky solution over his friend's back and switches on a movie. He has no idea which one; it's just a distraction at this point. Neither of them is awake enough to make sense of it. 

Matt quietens down and snuggles face-down into the pillow. Ian listens to some Italian music video and dozes. He starts thinking about fan fiction again and grabs Matt's laptop off the floor. Sneaking a guilty look at his comatose friend, he powers it up and reads. For hours. His heart thumps in his chest and his dick is rock hard. He keeps his arousal quiet. Matt waking up to find Ian jerking off wouldn't be _too_ awkward or anything...

Matt moans mid-stroke and he pinches Ian's shirt, tugging him towards himself. Ian tucks his cock back into his pants and sprays the fuck out of Matt's drying back. He cards his fingers through his friend's hair, lightly rubbing his scalp to relax him. He shifts further down the bed and blows cool air on Matt's cheek. He grazes those thick, full lips and bites back a whimper of want. 

Matt moans in his sleep and darts out his tongue. It must tickle him and it turns Ian's gut inside out. Nose to nose with his friend, he drifts off to sleep. A noise bolts him out of sleep and he stumbles to the hallway.

Matt's on the floor, drunk and disorderly and, judging by his grimace, desperate to pee. Smothering a smirk he helps him up and stands him in front of the toilet. Ian can't stop staring at Matt's dick. He's thick and uncut and why is he checking out his friend? He yanks Matt's boxers up and marches him back to bed. Matt's fingers grab his t-shirt and he tugs Ian towards him. 

Ian's heart is thumping like a jackhammer as he nestles closer to his friend. Matt reaches for Ian's chest and rubs his palm over his stomach - stom-mak. Before Ian can work out how he feels about this development, Matt explores. His fingers dive under Ian's shirt, burning a trail over his goosebump-pebbled skin.

Matt's hand falls as he snores and Ian almost whines at the loss. He lies in the darkness, listening to Matt breathe. He gives up after an hour and goes in search of food. He makes a cheese sandwich and brings another in for Matt when he wakes. 

                                                   ****************

Matt wakes as the first streaks of sunshine burst through the blinds. He almost feels stoned. He hates taking medication and these pills are too strong for him.

He refuses his next dose, pinching his lips closed. "Let's go outside. I need some fresh air. My head feels like it's made of cotton."

Tony turns up at nine and hands them a pile of DVDs. "Got some food too. You guys need anything else? Frank's here but I've got a party to go to tonight. Call him if you need help."

They wave him off and Matt laughs from behind him. "What's so funny?"

"Tony apparently thinks we want to watch Twilight. Do you think he's trying to tell us something?"

"Ugh. What's the other one?"

"Mission Impossible, the first movie."

Ian laughs. "It's still better than Twilight. Tony should know real vampires don't sparkle."

Matt puts the movie in and they settle down with their dinner. Pasta again. If they keep this up, Matt won't be the only one gaining weight. 

Ian eyes the beer and grabs one for them. It isn't the best idea he's ever had but he'll watch Matt. He soaks his friend's back before they settle down to watch the movie. He checks his own head, no more pus, he's cured. He leaves the bandage off and settles down beside Matt. 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Matt perches on the edge of the sofa, hard leather behind his knees. It's not the most comfortable position but it's better than hurting his back. He gulps as Ian settles under his arm and drapes it over his stomach like before. 

He idly strokes his friend's warm skin in concentric circles. Ian's shirt hikes up under Matt's ministrations but he doesn't seem to care. In fact, judging by his soft little moans, he likes it. 

Matt's heart wants to burst out of his chest. He has a boner the size of the moon and hopes Ian doesn't notice. Awkward... 

Ian stretches his legs out, toes digging into the squeaky leather. "Well this is nice." He smiles Damon's cat-that-got-the-cream smile and pulls Matt's index finger. "Don't fart on me."

"You poke the bear..." Matt says with a growl. "You get what you get."

"Kinky." He grins and tugs Matt's fingers until they're stroking his belly-button. Giant fingers, giant guy... Giant dick? He leans forward to grab his beer and Matt's giant fingers land on his cock. He almost swallows his tonsils and freezes. Cool sips of beer do little to calm his raging thirst but it's not a thirst for beer. It's a thirst for  _Matt_  and those giant fingers now stroking his thigh. 

They make awkward eye contact and look away almost immediately. Ian wants this, does Matt? How to ask without embarrassing him? Ian's the demonstrative one. At cons, Matt's the one standing against the wall pretending he's not there. 

                                          **********************

Matt's having a heart attack right now. Ian's sudden lean forward feels deliberate. Like he wants Matt's fingers on his body, like it's not an accidental fumble. He  _wants_  this.  _Matt_  wants this. 

He swallows a river of spit and strokes Ian's healing wound. A flare of rage makes his temples throb, he feels so protective of his friend. But is it protection? After all, Ian can take care of himself, he doesn't need Matt. Not that way anyway. Not like Matt needs him,  _needs_ \-- He moans and squashes a cushion over his dick. He's so hard he can taste it. 

"Let's go to bed," Ian says in Damon's fuck-me-til-I'm-raw voice. "I don't wanna fall asleep here."

Grateful for the brief reprieve, Matt washes up and gets ready for bed. He hesitates at Ian's bedroom door. Is he in there? Is he naked on his bed? His heart flutters in his throat as a dark shadow floats down the hall and takes his hand. 

"Your bed's bigger than mine. Move it." Ian takes him to Matt's room and sheds his t-shirt before sprawling on the bed. He turns the TV on and the lights off. 

Aw Jesus, this is  _it_.  _This_  is what he wants. His hands flutter at the hem of his own shirt and stop. Once they start this, there's no going back.  _Everything_ will change. 

Ian stands behind him and tugs his shirt away from his sore back. He eases it over the dry rough bandages and mists the solution over him. 

"Can't have you cracking up," he whispers softly in Matt's ear. 

He tugs Matt down to the bed and manhandles him on his side. They lay facing each other; each too scared to make the first move. Then Ian does. He grasps Matt's stubbled chin and lays one on him. The kiss is chaste at first, and then Ian claims his lips in a forceful kiss. Matt shakes with desire, with fear, with other emotions he's too afraid to name. He's gasping now, into Ian's lips, caressing the tip of his tongue. 

Ian pulls back and Matt tries to remember how to breathe. He's never felt like this in his life. Never during his brief and loveless marriage. Not during any of his fumbled dates and one horrible one-night stand he'd rather forget. She'd been rough with him; she'd basically used him as a walking dildo. He wants more. He deserves more. He deserves  _this_. 

Sweat beads on his forehead but his hands are colder than ice. He forces his fingers to work and curls a hand into Ian's hot neck. 

Ian runs to the kitchen and comes back with a tray of ice cubes. He uses it draw Matt's nipples, raising them to pebbly statues. Matt falls on his back but it doesn't hurt. The stinky solution Ian sprayed on him is doing its job. He nestles into the pillows and tugs Ian's slim frame on top of him. Their cocks rub together in the sweetest friction known to man. Silky wet boxers the only thing keeping them apart. He wants more. 

"More," he mumbles into Ian's throat. "More now."

"Your wish is my command..." Ian answers. Straddling Matt's feet, he tugs his boxers down inch by tantalizing inch. His mouth waters as springy dark pubic hair pops into view. Matt's uncut, huge purple mushroom head cock just begging for a blow job. 

Ian's no stranger to guy-on-guy but this is different. One drunken encounter at college doesn't compare to his best friend lying wanton on the bed. Matt is too special to take this lightly. 

Matt is a mess of jumbled nerves and want and need. Ian's head dips in slow motion and he tenses his thighs hard. Two inches away, one... "Oh my fucking god!" Ian's hot lips make contact with his throbbing head and he loses it. Hot, wet, and oh god, right  _there_. 

Ian huffs a warm chuckle and using his tongue as a pencil, draws the outline of Matt's dick. He's an artist and Matt is a blank canvas. In the dim light of the room, Matt's deep-set blue eyes have a light of their own. They bore into Ian's skull and he can't help but see Matt's naked  _want_. He takes a deep breath and sucks his friend inside his warm and willing mouth. He skates his tongue over the hard lip and the throbbing vein and nips it.

Matt arches his back, almost smothering Ian with his cock. He pulls back, digging his thumbs into the creases of Matt's thighs. "So _eager_."

Matt's chuckle sounds more like a sob of pent-up emotion. "Duh."

Ian goes to town, hollowing his cheeks to give the most suction. Matt's thighs jump and jolt and sweat and he clamps his thighs shut on Ian's head. Ian gets him to the point of no return and  _stops_. Just stops with no warning and no release. He has Matt right where he wants him. It's amazing how much like Damon Ian really is. He's evil, he's mean but he loves his friends, one more than others. 

He tugs Matt's boxers into place and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "My turn."

"You--" Matt stutters, lips trembling. "Are so mean."

"Did I say we were done? Trust me Matty, we're not done." He yanks his own boxers off and kicks them off his feet. Matt hasn't said, 'don't call me Matty'. He's getting used to it, or perhaps he no longer cares. He waggles his eyebrows like Damon and smiles a wicked smile. "Touch me."

Matt's on the verge of passing out but he forces himself to breathe. He wants this, he wants Ian. All naked and splayed out on his bed like a gift. He takes his time, scooting down until he's perched between Ian's open thighs. He blows on his friend's glistening cock head. It reacts like a tree in a storm, bending but never breaking. He strokes gentle fingers over Ian's soft skin. 

Head swimming, he takes a deep breath and circles the base of his cock. He squeezes a few times, testing its stiffness and Ian doesn't move. His eyes flutter shut and he groans but he doesn't move. Matt has no clue how to touch him; he doesn't exactly make a habit out of this. He licks his fingers and palm before stroking feather-light touches up Ian's stem. He's long and thin, Matt is short and fat. Ian has no foreskin, just a purple shiny head. 

"Jesus, you're killing me here."

Matt chuckles. "Can't blame a guy for looking."

"I know I'm gorgeous. Just lick me, suck me, just  _do_  something.  _Now_."

"Bossy much?" He swipes at the bead of pre-cum decorating Ian's cock like icing and  _tastes_. A little salty, a little sweet. He's not sure what he was expecting but wet rubber isn't it. Is that what he tastes like? He's never had any complaints but how would he really know? It's not like he'd ever asked for feedback. 

Covering his teeth with his lip he sucks at the rubbery head. His jaw aches four seconds in, now he understands his ex-girlfriend's pain. Five minutes was nothing on the receiving end but giving? Ow. Ian's guttural moan spurs him on like a lightning bolt to the chest. _He's_ pleasuring Ian, he _is_. Ian seems to like it, doesn't seem to mind that Matt has no idea what he's doing. 

He coordinates, stroking Ian's cock and nipping at the vein like he did to him. It takes the pressure off his jaw but it's kinda like rubbing your head and patting your stomach. Not as easy as it looks. Ian's hips arch off the bed and Matt returns the favour. He stops mid-suck and pulls up Ian's boxers. "I'm tired now. We should sleep," he says with an evil grin. It wasn't Alaric's, it was all his. 

Ian growls and plunders Matt's mouth. Can he taste himself on Matt's tongue? Does he like it? Ian tastes like faint toothpaste and cold from the ice cube. He pushes Matt back on the bed, making him squeak. The damp mist doesn't last long, he's starting to dry up. 

Ian licks Matt's stubble like a cat licking its baby. It tickles but doesn't override the pain in his back.

He moans out his pain and Ian understands without words. "Let's get a beer. It'll take the edge off."

Matt watches the globes of Ian's ass swing as he walks and his heart skips a beat. They sit on the couch drinking their beers and then Ian kneels in front of him. Matt leans back as far as he can, hissing when the bandages makes contact with the couch. It's worth it though, the pain. For _this_. For Ian, fucking him with those ice-blue eyes. Damon's eyes.

"Let's try something new," Ian says in a conversational tone.

"Something new? This is all new to me. Have you ever--?"

Ian smirks. "Have I ever sucked a guy off before? Once. In college. It was a dare of course."

"Of course." Matt rolls his eyes and swallows a sip of bitter beer. "When have  _you_  ever turned down a dare?"

"Do you trust me?" He waggles his eyebrows and smirks. "Like really trust me?"

Matt's voice throbs. "You know I do."

"I know a lot of things now I never did. Your come face for one."

"Bullshit. I didn't even come. You made sure of that."

"Something I aim to remedy." He dives off the couch and kneels in front of Matt's legs. "Ready?"

Matt wants to reply that he's born ready but he's too scared. Is he ready? Ian's wearing Damon's evil face like a mask. What's he planning? What else is there to do? Ian rips his boxers off and tugs Matt off the couch, kicking them off with his feet. The cool night air flowing in from an open window peppers goosebumps on his chest. So much for hair keeping you warm. 

Ian doesn't lick him, just stands there admiring him like a painting. A still life, 'Fear'. Or hope or desire or whatever the hell he's feeling right now. He tugs Matt onto his naked lap. Matt's a heavy guy, doesn't want to squash Ian like a bug. He widens his thighs and sits, gently on the sticky heat of Ian's lap. 

He's uncomfortable, thighs stretched out like this but at least his back doesn't hurt. Much. Without the pressure of the couch it's just bearable. 

"Feels good right?" Ian croons at him.

"Wouldn't call it good."

Ian hugs him close with one arm and reaches for something that clinks. Matt wants to melt, right here and right now. The confident yet gentle hand at the base of his spine feels good, feels right. 

Ian forces something cold between his wide open thighs and presses it to Matt's puckered rim. 

"Jesus! What the hell was that?"

"Ice cube."

"Why are you poking ice up my butt?"

"Think about it Matty."

A host of Dalaric fan fiction stories crowd his brain like New Yorkers down Fifth Avenue. He's the _bottom_. Ian wants to--? _Fuck_ him. That's what the ice cube is for, to dull the pain. Matt's never had anything up there, doesn't think he wants to. He shifts on Ian's lap, mentally evading the ice cube and clenching his thighs. 

"It'll hurt worse if you do that."

"Why do I have to be the bottom?"

"Wow Matty. You know the terminology... That's neat." Ian laughs and rubs the ice cube over Matt's tip. "Feels nice right?"

"You're the one who's done this before. You be the bottom."

"A blow job in a dirty college library doesn't count."

"I don't want to rush into anything. Let's sleep on it." Using Ian's shoulders for balance he pushes himself off his friend's lap. His knees tremble, from desire? From fear? Fear is more accurate. He's seen the size of Ian's dick and long and thin aside, he's still  _big_. Six or seven inches at least. Matt has no desire to feel like a kebab.

Tonight they sleep in separate rooms. Matt tries to sleep but can't. He gets up at three and experiments in the bathroom. With lotion and one finger, he investigates his own hole. How the hell is he supposed to fit Ian's cock up there? His own finger  _burns_. He squirts a handful of lube over his dick and jerks off, it doesn't take long. He spurts over the sink and some of it even hits the mirror. He takes the lotion back to bed and squats on the mattress. It's impossible to imagine his finger is anything other than his finger. 

He tries two. Big mistake. He freezes until the pain subsides and thinks sexy thoughts. If you'd asked him last week what his sexy thoughts were, Elena would be number one. Now though, now... it was all Ian. It was like the writers knew it too, their attraction. Jo had black hair and blue eyes too, just like Damon. The Bromance song filtered into his mind, _'If I loved you more I might be gay'_... How fucking true.

Matt isn't dumb enough to confuse love with lust. He knows they're two separate things but right now it's hard to see the line. If Ian walked into his room right now, he'd do it. He'd deal with the pain for Ian. For them. But he doesn't. Matt lies alone until dawn leaks through the blinds, gritty eyed and sore. His back hurts like a bitch. 

Ian wakes at ten and brings Matt a coffee and an ultimatum. "We're going to the clinic again. I don't like the look of your back."

Matt snorts. " _You_  don't. I saw it in all its glory in the mirror. I look like a chew toy."

"A cute chew toy."

"Bite me."

"You need to get a new catchphrase."

It wasn't as awkward as Matt had feared. They're back to their old footing. What's a blow job or two between good friends? Ian can't keep his hands off him. Matt's the nectar to Ian's bee, as stupid as that sounds. 

The nurse bites his head off at the hospital, chattering nonsense in Italian while Ian laughs. She tugs the dried bandages off and berates him for not using his tranquilizers. He gets the gist. It hurts so much tears swim in his eyes. He doesn't want to cry in front of Ian. He hates looking weak. He's totally the girl in their fling...

The nurse brings the doctor in and he berates Matt too. He catches 'infection' and 'antiseptic' and a throbbing headache from the tension. Ian protects him like an angry little puppy, shielding him from their clinical rage. 

The nurse smacks a packet of blue pills in his palm and wags a finger in his face. Ian has a protective hand on his clammy neck. It's awesome and at the same time, awful. 

"You take," she says, hatchet-like nose almost poking his eye out. "Take these or you no get better." She turns to Ian. "You take care him."

"I will." Ian’s earnest blue eyes bore into Matt's brain. "I always will."

It's more than a declaration of friendship, it's hard to explain. Ownership? Possessiveness? Ian's not like that but sick guilt crawls over his spine. Must be that Catholic guilt he's harboured for years.

Ian hands him a bottle of spring water. "I promised. Don't want to get on her bad side, right buddy?" He reads the pamphlet that has an English translation and smiles. "You can shower now."

"Can I?" 

A shower sounds amazing. Matt's a clean guy, gets grumpy when he's dirty. 

"A cold one. Not hot. Then I get to play Doctor Somerhalder and change your dressings."

Tony drops them back at the chalet and Matt dozes in the sunshine. These new pills aren't as strong but he feels light-headed and weak. He watches Ian read a magazine and fondle his shorts-covered dick from behind his sunglasses. 

Matt’s shorts are getting tighter with each passing second. It's not just the pills contributing to his dizzy head. "I'm gonna take my shower now."

"Want me to come?"

Matt swoons. _Ian_  and  _coming_  in the same sentence. He wants another repeat of last night. He wants to make Ian scream his name. He  _wants_ \-- "Nah. I'll be fine."

Ian laughs. "Liar."

The water is tepid because that's all Matt can cope with. It stings but it's a good sting, a good pain. Once he's clean and bandaged and sprayed, he feels a hundred times better. Ian hovers above him on his bed and Matt struggles to stay still. 

Ian removes the sodden towel from around his hips and the last of Matt's fears. They kiss like a couple of virgin teenagers, teeth clacking, tongues fighting. Ten seconds later, Ian's naked and on top of him. He squirts a handful of lotion on Matt's cock and strokes. 

"More."

"More what?" Ian's voice is soft and teasing. "Tell me what you want."

"You," he says simply. "You and me."

Ian plays a game of 'hide the ice cube' and Matt loses his mind. The icy cold sends shivers down his spine and Ian's smirk pushes him over the edge. 

"Tell me what you think of this game," Ian says. He pushes Matt's legs apart and up and licks his cock slit.

"I like this game."

He laughs. "Thought you might." He circles a new ice cube at Matt's entrance and sucks him at the same time. Distractions  _work_. 

Matt tangles his fingers in Ian's soft dark hair. The ice cube is doing its magic, numbing him to the point of not caring. Ian pulls back and smoothes a condom over his hard, leaking dick. "Ready?"

"No."

"I'll be gentle."

"Bet you say that to all the girls," Matt mutters. 

"You're the manliest girl I've ever seen."

"Gee, thanks. I think." 

"Relax Matt. I swear I'll stop if it hurts." 

It _does_ hurt. More than anything he's ever experienced. Ian's cock feels like a tree branch trying to penetrate a gopher hole. He grits his teeth. If it doesn't start feeling good in two minutes, he'll make Ian stop. 

Ian's cock breaches his tight ring of muscle and pops inside him. The rubbery condom scrapes his insides, searing a trail of fire in its path.

He endures it, like he endures everything. It hurts so bad tears leak down his cheeks but he doesn't want to disappoint Ian. If he says no now, maybe this'll be the last time it ever happens. He wants to go back to blow jobs, hand jobs, anything other than--

"Oh my freaking god!" Matt says with a yelp. "What the hell was that?"

"Your prostate." Ian chuckles and pulls out a few inches before slamming back in. He keeps the tip of his dick centred on Matt's hard pulsating mass of nerve endings. 

Matt's eyes blur. This is  _fantastic_. He knows his prostate has something to do with peeing but  _this_ , this is something else. Red and yellow fireworks burst behind his eyelids and he freezes in place. He wants to keep this awesome sensation, hug it to his sweaty chest and never let it go. 

Ian works him with a vengeance, squeezing Matt's cock like he's icing a cake. Coaxing every last drop of come from the bulbous glistening head. Matt arches his back like some kind of contortionist and  _moans_. 

That moan sends shivers ricocheting down Ian's spine. He wants more. More Matt, slick and sticky. More cute little whimpers his friend is trying to hide. They aren’t manly whimpers but they are adorable. He - Ian Somerhalder - is making  _Matt Davis_  whimper. A vision of Nina Dobrev cavorts in his mind. His brain conjures up a placard with the words, 'Suck on that Nina' and he dissolves. 

Still, Matt isn't a toy, he has feelings. Ian loves the fact that he embraced his fear and let him inside, literally. It takes guts to do that and Matt has plenty of that. He looks down at Matt's raw, red-rimmed hole and swallows down guilt. It must hurt but he's not saying a word.

Waves of passion hit him like a ten-tonne truck and his balls tighten against his body. Matt's a sweaty mess and Ian keeps slipping out. He thrusts hard inside his friend's ass, pistoning his hips like a jackhammer. 

Matt's mind is a mantra of, 'Ow, ow, ow' but he grits his teeth. It felt good before but now he just wants it over. Ian ices him afterwards but the sting takes hours to fade. 

They lie together until darkness leaks through the blinds. 

"Beer?" Ian asks.

"I wanna squat in a vat of ice cream."

"Guess I'm the bottom guy from now on huh?"

"You got it."

From now on makes Matt's head spin. He's happy this isn't a one-off. What would their fans think of them now? 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To give credit where credit is due: The links for the two YouTube videos are below. Honestly, the Bromance one is kinda cute - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DoRj7vcrBLU
> 
> The one with the background music of Beauty & the Beast is so funny that you'll wet your pants. I just played it again and spat water all over my keyboard.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7vINRNtJJXw


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